Qualtagh
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: Lucius Malfoy finds Harry Potter standing on his door stop. They go for a walk. SLASH Lucius Malfoy/Harry Potter


Note: This is for daemonkieran, for no reason other than that I felt like it.

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**Qualtagh**

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_Qualtagh: the first individual a person meets after exiting his or her house_

~000~

Lucius Malfoy had loved his wife and she had loved him with equal affection. Their love was not romantic for long after their wedding, but had transformed into something more lasting. They were great friends and fierce allies to one another, regardless of whether or not they approved of the other's schemes. Lucius never said this to her face, but he often thought of Narcissa as the Jael to his Heber. In the Old Testament there was an oppressor of the Israelites named Sisera, who served as the commander of the Canaanite armies. When Sisera was defeated in battle, he took refuge in the tent of Heber's wife Jael. She plied him with drink, and then drove a tent stake through his head while he slept.

To be less obscure, she was the Lady to his Macbeth.

Regardless of this affection and devotion, he was not entirely displeased when she passed. Things had not been the same between them after his release from prison. Prison had changed him into something fragile and indistinct. He felt like a scrap of smoke given temporary physical form. Narcissa did her best to support him as he struggled to return to normal life, but she was not untouched herself. Injuries that she had sustained during the occupation of their house had greatly weakened her immune system, making her extremely susceptible to illness. They had done their best to be optimistic, all the while living in terror of the merest chill.

An unhappy contact with a bearer of influenza brought Narcissa low at last. She died a week after becoming ill.

Without the distraction of supporting an ailing spouse, Lucius had no choice but to apply himself to his work. Many bridges were burned during the War, but just as many new bridges were being built and were eager to make contact with him. In this time of economic upheaval and uncertainty, anyone with a reputation for good business sense was sought out and treated like a god. Lucius happened to have a knack for business, and so he found himself flooded with requests for advice and guidance.

Somehow, without quite knowing how, he became a consultant. He gave up attempts to rebuild his family's estate, transferred that responsibility to Draco, and dedicated himself to helping the next generation create stable business infrastructures.

He was…happy. Sure, he lived alone in a giant and half-destroyed relic of a buried era filled with ghosts. Many people still considered him a pariah because of his past. He even had to endure a monthly search from the Ministry of his person and property. In spite of it all, he was happy. He had purpose, real purpose, and no one was opposing him. There was no dark shadow hanging over his head, no concern for how his son would live. His son had survived the War, and Voldemort was dead.

Lucius was a free man at last.

He straightened his posture and tossed the unanswered correspondence that he was meant to be reading when he became lost in thought.

He was free. He was unmarried, released from prison, and no longer confined to a set work schedule. It was two in the afternoon, and a beautiful day. He stood and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves. He was going outside for a walk, and there was nobody to tell him that he couldn't.

With a spring in his step, he left his office and started down the hall for the front entrance. Halfway down the hall he paused a moment; the house was perfectly still, save for the ticking, somewhere, of a great clock. Yes, he would be happy to leave this house. Maybe he should sell it.

He continued on and threw the doors open with a grand gesture. He was not expecting an audience, and felt embarrassed to find that he had one.

Harry Potter, boy wonder, was standing there with one hand raised to knock. It was a miracle that he was standing exactly between the doors, or else he would have been knocked down.

"Um…hello?"

Lucius stopped staring at Harry, who was worthy of a head-to-toe inspection, and made an effort to pull himself together.

"Sorry that I've dropped by without notice, but I was actually looking for Draco," Potter continued. He paused and then bit his lip. "I have something that belongs to him, and I'd like to give it back."

"Draco doesn't live here anymore."

Potter looked surprised. "Really? Okay. Um. Do you mind directing me to his current address?"

"I can do better than that. I'll escort you."

"Oh, that's not really necessary-"

Lucius smiled, and Potter went mute. He wondered why, and then realized that he had never smiled at him before. Potter had probably never seen him happy. Lucius wasn't surprised. He hadn't felt like he felt now since he was fifteen years old. That was a long time to feel like a prisoner.

"I know that. I happen to be in the mood for a walk, and I see no reason for me to walk one way while you walk the other with something for my son. Besides, it's been a while since I've seen Draco, which is not my fault. I have a mind to scold him for neglecting his old man."

Potter laughed a bit and said, "Okay, fair enough. But for the record, you are the youngest-looking old man that I have ever seen."

Lucius began to walk, and Potter fell into step with him. It was unspoken that they would walk rather than apparatate.

"Graceful aging is a Malfoy family trait."

"Oh, how nice for you!"

They exchanged pleasantries, commented on people and incidents that they passed, and just generally didn't try to kill one another. It was pleasant to walk and talk like this, and Lucius caught himself sneaking glances at Potter out of the corners of his eye. Potter had grown tremendously since the last time he'd seen him. But perhaps he was wrong, perhaps it had happened sooner. The last time he had seen him was in court, and Potter had been seated throughout the entirety of the proceeding. Whenever it had happened, Potter had enjoyed a growth spurt. He'd also thickened out, developing to look more like a man and less like a boy. With a start, Lucius realized that Potter was the same age as Draco, which would make him all of twenty-five years old. He was definitely no longer merely a boy wonder.

Suffice it to say, he looked extremely well.

Draco was not at home. It wasn't that surprising, actually. It was a Friday, but Draco worked at a very respectable job and could not be expected to be trolloping around in the middle of the day.

Potter left the package with the landlady. When, outside and out of ear shot, Lucius asked him if that was wise, Potter laughed.

"Oh trust me, its fine; the sky will collapse before any harm can come to that package. I've put more charms on it than can be found in the dictionary."

They stood there, in silence, smiling at each other. Lucius' sharp eyes detected some very encouraging signals from Harry's body language that made him ask, "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Would you like to go and get something to eat? I know a nice Muggle café around the corner."

Harry smiled and nodded, "Yeah, alright. I don't have anything else to do today, and I'd like to hear more about your consulting business."

Lucius knew that both of those were lies, but he said nothing. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

~000~

End Qualtagh

Note: There, that wasn't so horrible, was it? A bit short, yes, but I ran out of things to say that would not result in ten more pages of drivel or sex. And I promised myself that I wouldn't bring sex into this, so there you have it.


End file.
